Page 77 of Brim Over Boot
It’s the trails. The last five clues are near the mountain trails.
“But which one?” I hear hissed from nearby. Someone makes ashhsound, but that’s the question, isn’t it? Which trail?
Hawk Hollow? Or Eagle Back?
“We’ll split up,” Colton says, voice quiet. “It makes the most sense. Your truck is on the way there anyhow.”
“Yeah, all right,” Jackson agrees. “You’ll take west? We’ll go east?”
“Yeah,” Colton says. “Let’s go.”
I glance up as the men get into the truck, Colton’s eyes snagging on me for just a moment. West. He’s taking Hawk Hollow. The smart thing to do would be to go east to Eagle Back. Except, if I choose wrong, and Colton chooses right…
I get on my bike, taking to the road. I don’t bother speeding ahead of Colton’s group, knowing it’s not necessary. They split off before long for Jackson’s truck, and I get my head start.
I make it to Hawk Hollow trailhead fifteen minutes later, not a soul in sight, although there is a single vehicle parked in the lot. I pull off my helmet to search the area, guessing wherever the next clue is, it’ll be close, not down any number of diverging paths into the mountains. I find the metal barrel hidden away behind a tree.
My adrenaline is high as I head back to the parking lot. The clue this time is a picture. A map of the trails that loosely form the shape of a hawk. There’s a single blue dot at one wing tip, a spot just over two miles from here down accessible trails.
I look that way, the sun high overhead. The intention is to walk, I’m sure of it. But…
There’s an access point a few miles down the road. It’s closed to vehicles, but my motorcycle could manage. I’d get there quicker.
Making a snap decision, I hop back on my bike and head that way. I can feel the thrill of competition thrumming through my veins, the desire to win heavier now than it was in the beginning. It only takes a couple minutes to reach the access point, and I ease past the metal guard rail and onto the dirt path. Technically, there are no markers prohibiting motorcycles, so I pray like hell I’m not making a mistake.
I see the shape of a box a mile down the path. A smile forms on my lips.
And that’s when my back end fishtails roughly.
The loose stones underneath me make it impossible to correct my momentum in time, and my bike goes down, me with it. I grit my teeth as the metal frame rolls over my leg, but then it’s skidding past, the beautiful red body skating over dirt and stones as I watch on in dismay. I wasn’t going that fast. I’m not terribly hurt.
Butfuck.
My bike.
With a wince, I push myself to my feet, wiping dust and stones off the side of my pant leg. Another wince has me checking my palm, which is scraped up but not bleeding all that badly. The cuts are shallow.
“Fuck,” I mutter aloud, stepping over to my motorcycle.
Daphne has a blown tire.
“Goddamn it,” I groan. Her scratched exterior is the least of my worries if I can’t even drive her out of here. The fuck am I going to do now? Walter can’t come get me. I could call a tow truck, but that would put me out of this race.
Of course, there is one person I know is close by. One who could help load up my bike without much time wasted for either of us.
I don’t expect him to answer, not right now, but Colton picks up on the second ring.
“Hello?” he asks slowly.
“Colt. Hey.”
“Uh, King?”
I nearly roll my eyes. “Yeah, it’s me. I need a favor.”
Colton is quiet, so I go on.
“I crashed my bike. Can you come get me?”
